A/N: Hey there. This story was inspired by Spazzlings' amazing video, "Stuck In The Wrong Story". You can find it on YouTube by going to their channel. If you don't like Seifette? Deal. I cried when I watched the video, and I cried when I first wrote this... it's so sad... *sniffle*

"Always stuck… in the wrong story."

The day they'd been dreading came rather suddenly, like the legends of the end of the world. One minute, they stood, on the twilight hill, away from the rest of the world so that he could be himself instead of Seifer, the badass, the punk façade that kept others from looking too closely; they were holding hands as they watched the sun set, keeping a watchful eye out for her friends to make sure they weren't seen together like this.

He leaned in towards her, to pull her into his arms for what might be the last time, when he felt something shift, and his arms went right through her.

"S-seifer?" she gasped, now standing behind him. He turned to her, looking at her in horror through his hands, transparent and flickering erratically.

"It's time," he said, dropping his hands to his side, and looking away. Tough-guy image or not, his carefully-cultivated mask slowly cracked away. He could feel the emotions swelling within him, and he was too devastated to keep them back any longer. A tear slowly leaked from one eye, and he wiped it away angrily.

"It's not fair!" he shouted at the sky, fists clenched against the heavens and the far star to which he'd soon be called back. "It's not… not FAIR!"

"Seifer," she whispered, stepping closer to him, one hand almost resting on the muscular shoulder she'd been leaning against not five minutes ago.

He couldn't help it. He reached out to her face, those green eyes brimming with the tears even he wasn't able to hold back. He couldn't touch her, but she was there, a girl that even he had never mocked, never tormented, no matter what losers she hung out with. He heard the sound of running feet coming up the path behind him; Fuu and Rai, but he didn't care what they saw. It wouldn't matter much anyway; they weren't coming with him.

"Olette," he said softly, more softly than he ever said anything. "Forgive me." Seifer didn't ask forgiveness. "I never got the chance to say it."